


Surprisingly Effective

by Small_Hobbit



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Gen, embarrassed!Greg
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-07
Updated: 2013-01-07
Packaged: 2017-11-24 02:03:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 719
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/629100
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Small_Hobbit/pseuds/Small_Hobbit
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Possibly the most ridiculous thing Greg Lestrade has done recently.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Surprisingly Effective

**Author's Note:**

> Someone asked eloquy what was the most ridiculous thing Greg had done for one of Sherlock's cases. She came up with the suggestion and I wrote it down.

Detective Inspector Greg Lestrade tried to remember when he had last felt as awkward as he felt now.  He was rapidly coming to the conclusion that despite his years knowing Sherlock and some of his previous ridiculous requests this was the most bizarre one so far.

_Earlier in Baker Street:_

“You’ll need to go in disguise, Lestrade, or you’re never going to get close enough to find Miller,” Sherlock said.

“And I suppose you have a suggestion as to what I wear?”

“Actually I have.”  With that Sherlock picked up a carrier bag and produced a giraffe onesie from within it.

“Oh no, no way!”

Sherlock ignored Greg’s objections and continued with his explanation.  “If you wear this and hold a collection box no-one will take any notice of you.”

John laughed and said, “Most people will look the other way rather than feel obliged to put money in your tin.  It should be a perfect disguise.”

“Go and try it on,” Sherlock added, passing the onesie over.

Greg took the onesie and went into the bathroom to get changed.  A few minutes later he padded back into the sitting room, glowering.

“You need to put the hood up as well,” Sherlock instructed.  Greg complied with a grimace.

“Aw, I think you look rather cute with those little ears,” John said admiringly.

“I shall freeze in ten minutes if I go out like this.”

“You can put this on underneath; I bought an extra large size onesie to allow for an additional layer.”  Sherlock handed over a thin brown sweatshirt.

Greg slipped the top half of the onesie off, put the sweatshirt on and then rezipped himself.

“And just how am I supposed to walk up the street with these?”  Greg lifted a foot and indicated the cloth covering.

“I think Sherlock may have sent me to buy the solution earlier,” John said.  He opened another carrier bag and took out a pair of wellington boots.

Greg pushed his feet into the boots and marched around the sitting room.

“Excellent,” exclaimed Sherlock.  “And here’s your collecting box.”

“Just what am I supposed to be collecting for?”

“Choose your favourite charity.”

“The Police Benevolent Fund springs to mind, but I hardly think that would be a popular choice.”

“Say you are collecting for endangered animals, you won’t be too far from the truth.”

 

Which was how Greg came to be standing on the insalubrious pavement of an insalubrious part of London, wearing a giraffe onesie and wellies, rattling a collecting tin.  He was forced to concede that the disguise was working rather well.  He’d already seen two of Miller’s associates who had walked straight past without noticing him at all. 

It had started to drizzle and Greg was wondering how much longer he could manage to stand in the same spot when he saw Miller come out of a dingy building on the opposite side of the road.  He watched as one of the men who’d passed him earlier approached Miller and they exchanged packages.  Then Miller set off down the road.  This was an opportunity Greg could not afford to miss and he started to follow him. 

When they reached the edge of a small park Miller turned into it.  Greg didn’t want to run the risk of losing him and so started to run to catch him up.  Miller heard his footsteps and turned round to see who was following him.

Greg shouted, “Stop, police!”

Miller stood still, clearly not believing that a giraffe was capable of arresting a notorious drug dealer.  Greg grabbed his handcuffs from the bottom of the collecting tin, and had them around Miller’s wrists before he had time to react.  The resulting expression on Miller’s face was worth all the embarrassment Greg had felt at wearing the onesie; the fury that someone who had evaded capture by a large part of the Met had been trapped by someone wearing ears and a tail.

 

An hour later John Watson received a telephone call.  “Could you bring my clothes in for me, please.  I’m at the Yard and would like to stop being a giraffe.  I have had quite enough of all the offers of a nice plate of leaves for my lunch.  And the Chief Super wants to know why I’m wearing wellies indoors.”


End file.
